Before Mariko spoke, she caught herself silently hoping to resemble this woman when she was of a similar age. She stopped herself, caution demanding her to stay vigilant. Raiden’s mother had not survived decades at court without a great deal of resourcefulness.
“I’m sorry it has taken me so long to meet with you, Mariko-chan,” she began. “Forgive a mother for being cool to the woman who will steal her son away in a few short days.”
Mariko bowed. “There is nothing to forgive, my lady.”
Raiden’s mother laughed. “I am no lady of this court.”
“But you are my lord’s mother, and I offer you the greatest respect I have to give.”
“Kano-sama should be quite proud of you. You are a credit to your father’s name.”
Mariko dipped her head once more. “I am undeserving of your praise.”
“I disagree.” She lifted her hands to direct a gliding black swan toward the bank, its feathers glistening in the moonlight. “I think it extraordinary that you managed to survive an attempt on your life, at such a young age. Then managed to stave off your doom while living among murderers and thieves.”
As with the empress, Mariko knew she was being tested, but in a different manner. It troubled her to realize she could not sense the intent. “I did very little, my lady. The stars were with me.”
“Of course.” The enchantress’s voice turned circumspect, almost as though she were beginning to lose interest.
They watched the black swan swim to a stop. Lower its head, as if in a bow. Then take its leave.
“My son will not be an easy husband.”
Mariko did not respond.
Raiden’s mother continued. “I’ve not raised him to be agreeable. I’ve raised him to fight. To be beyond reproach. It has been the only way for me to ensure his safety. My greatest desire has been to raise a son not even the heavens could find fault with.”
Mariko’s eyes widened.
In that respect, she has failed. Utterly.
The shrewd woman turned to face Mariko once again, her gaze direct. “I am not delusional. I know Raiden has his faults.” Her features hardened. “He is still young and in need of guidance. Unfortunately he no longer has time to listen to the word of his mother.” A smile touched her lips as she gazed over the waters of the gently flowing pond. “Sometimes men do not realize the power a woman can possess. That many things begin and end with you. What I wish for Raiden is that you will be as direct as I was with him. That you will not allow his faults to overshadow his greater self.”
Greater self?
Mariko maintained a solemn expression. She nodded slowly, as though she’d been given sage advice. After all, this was what she’d been raised to be: a doting wife and a loving mother. Were these things her greatest wish, it would indeed be a gift to have her husband’s mother offer her such guidance.
“Impressive.” The light of the moon twinkled in the enchantress’s eyes. “You are more than what I thought you would be.” She did not appear to be lying.
“I am thankful for your wisdom, my lady. And for the compliment.”
“It wasn’t a compliment, Lady Mariko. It was a word of caution.” Raiden’s mother reached for Mariko’s hand. The woman’s touch startled her, for it was unusual among the nobility to cross into another’s space in such a manner.
The enchantress’s hand was cool, her touch soft. Mariko felt a soothing warmth flow from her fingers into her arm, as though she were being lulled to sleep. She wanted to yank her hand away. Fought the urge, for it would be the height of disrespect.
Her body squirmed. Her mind remained still.
Raiden’s mother took in a careful breath. “Do not lose hold on your many strengths, my daughter. I did not know until today how much of a boon you could be to my son. And I am thankful for it.” The enchantress bowed low. Kissed Mariko’s hand.
Then disappeared from the riverbank in a whirl of linin.
A Sleeping Dragon
Two days.
Two days were all Mariko had left to free Ōkami from his cell and help him escape the imperial city. Once she was married to Prince Raiden, she could not spend her nights experimenting with charcoal crystal behind her tansu chest or disappearing beneath the castle to pass an hour in the company of a traitor.
In two days, her nights would be spent with her new husband.
And Ōkami would be free, or he would be dead.
These were not thoughts Mariko cared to dwell upon.
Urgency driving her every deed, she collected more of the crystallized scrapings she’d stolen from beneath Heian Castle. The dark grey flakes smelled of metal and soot. But she knew as well as any how they could be highly flammable when touched by heat in just the right way.
Mariko took the small porcelain bowl she’d pilfered from her evening meal. She added whatever she could find to the charcoal flakes and tested the mixture. First she used nightingale dung. Then she stirred in salt crystals. Ground the shavings down to a powder.
Still they did not produce enough heat to spark.
What she wouldn’t give for one of the pale purple flowers that hung above the hot springs near the Black Clan’s encampment.
A memory flashed through her mind. Pinked her cheeks.
Those hot springs had proven dangerous on more than one occasion. For more than one reason. The memories they conjured were moments of brightness for her. The touch of her hand to Ōkami’s bare chest. The brush of his fingertips down her spine.
The feel of his lips upon hers.
To me, you are magic.
A sadness weighed down on her like an anchor in the sea. Mariko quickly shoved it aside before it could find purchase. There was no need to dwell on the past. If she wanted the boy she loved to have any kind of a future, she needed to remain cold. Detached. Her purpose was not to simply be any man’s bride. If she could not have the boy she wanted—the life she wanted—she would forge her own path.
She would be more.
Mariko decided to separate the lighter crystals from the darkened dregs. She poured water into the small ceramic bowl, then placed it above a taper, suspending its brim between two lacquered chopsticks. In silence, she let the water rise to a low boil above the candle, then deposited the charcoal crystals inside, careful to watch the water level so that nothing burned.
After the liquid had boiled away, she was left with crystals resembling the kind of rock salt used to keep horses from dehydrating on long journeys. Mariko took a single crystal and balanced it on the edge of a cosmetics brush. Using the firestones she’d pilfered from a shrine to the late emperor, she lit the crystal. It sparked hot, crisping the end of the brush.
A grin began to form on her lips. Mariko proceeded to boil the remaining charcoal flecks until a small amount of refined crystal formed a pile on top of a piece of washi paper. But would it be enough heat to break the chains binding Ōkami? How many crystals would be needed to destroy the tumblers? It was key for a bright flash of fire to combat the brisk cold of the hole Ōkami had dug in his cell. That combination of extremes should weaken the metal.
There is only one way to know for certain.
With that, Mariko gathered everything in a bundle and slipped out into the night.
She moved between the shadows of Heian Castle, her steps measured. Despite the alarming incident from the night prior, Mariko had yet to encounter a guard. Perhaps that fact made her bold.
Perhaps it made her foolish.
Mariko glided down the stairs into the warren of underground tunnels, her skin tingling with awareness. Tonight a greater sense of importance dictated her every move. Time was not on her side. She made her way down the narrow corridor—counting each of her steps—toward the widening cavern before the two barred cells.
As she stepped from the shadows near the foot of the stairs, sounds of movement caught her attention. The rumble of male voices. Her pulse leapt in her throat, and fear began churning through her veins.
Someone was beside Ōkami’s cell.
Just as silently as she’d come, Mariko turned back, with a mind to retrace her steps. Then—at the top of the stairs above—another torchlight blazed into view. If she did not hide immediately, she would be trapped.
Breathe. This is exactly why I sought to learn all I could about this place.